


Abandoned Blockbuster

by Snickerdickles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Climate Change, Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Friendship, Future Fic, He learns tho, M/M, Mild racist attitude, Native Mexican cultures, Politically Charged, Rating May Change, Strangers to Lovers, This is my culture, We're done w non-whites bein "savage", With friendship thrown in, You and me and the universe, You've gotta FEEL it, alive and well, possible rating change later, we don't know yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 05:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickerdickles/pseuds/Snickerdickles
Summary: The world is gone, people are confined to the world within the walls.The Reconstruction is almost over.Shiro- New Glory- is in power. People are happy within the walls, their own little bubble.Outside, culture lives on in a place beneath the visible moon, the sun and stars.And Keith is in love with it.





	Abandoned Blockbuster

**Author's Note:**

> Imma be real this time around, i wont be finishing this unless i get enough feedback.   
> Anyways, it's like leakira but not.

**Abandoned Blockbuster**

In this district, the lights are always dim. The air is always quiet and still and it's the only place within province confines that you could go and see  _ green.  _ The plants, the ivy that pulls over old buildings, the ones the new cities were built on, the the flowers pushing through cracks in the cement. The tall grass that grew where there were once parking lots. There was no fauna, though. There were sewer rats and subway rats, there were some snakes and pigeons. Seeing an owl was a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

Teenagers ran through and spray painted on buildings and walls and cars left in the street from God knows how long ago. Adults left by the system to die took up residence wherever there was space, whether that be in an old Walmart on the edge of the district or in a parking garage beneath a tower that would be dwarfed by the ones built today. 

In between two said towers, there was a blockbuster. It was so covered in ivy that even if you could find the doors, there was no way you could get them open. The old, burnt out, neon sign was the only thing visible beneath the vines and leaves. It had pigeon nests in it. 

On the roof, two boys were flat on their backs, staring up at the night sky from the only place you could still see stars. 

The stars, they were dim. Dark, grey. The elders, they talked about how bright the stars were in their time, before The Reconstruction. How they shined blue, purple, yellow, white, all against a navy sky. How the clouds in the day were white and fluffy, when the smoke was only there in the summer. The fall. 

 

_ New Glory _

For no less than 10 years, there was an equilibrium among people, all was fair, quiet. It was still during The Reconstruction, and when the people forced by the powerful into the outskirts of existence looked towards the light, oh how they prayed for a leader, there were warlords. 

Slowly, one rose to power above the rest. In the span of five years, he brought about and age, an era, of peace. He was hardly more than a diplomat who made difficult choices sometimes. 

The people called him  _ “Glory”.  _ They said he had a luminescent white halo nestled in his hair, they said he was blessed with beauty, with fairness, and with grace. His throne was born not of blood nor bodies nor war and crime, his throne was nothing more than an illusion for the people who adored him so. 

Glory was not alone, for he had a brother. An orphan he had met when the boy was not yet twelve. All he had with him were the clothes on his back and his first name. He was called “Keith”. 

Between the insistent protection of the people and the challenges of people who valued power over life, Keith grew up fast at Glory's side. Yet he lived in the shadows until he was sixteen. 

At that point, he was called  _ “New Glory”.  _ He was still a teenager, a hormonal, scared, confused teenager. The idea was that he was not the brother of Glory, but his trainee. 

Each night, Keith ran further from their abode in a Reconstructed city. He ran away not from his title nor his responsibility, he ran from stuffiness and overbearance. He slept in the dead grass past Province bounds some days. 

And the first day he encountered another person, he nearly killed them. 

On the roof of an old office building, he saw a boy, sitting quietly, facing away from him and looking up just slightly. 

On the back of his neck and arms, he could see the tattoos marking someone who lived outside Bounds. Someone who lived with what the city people called “savages”, and Keith was inclined to believe them. After all, what kind of people would tattoo a child? Pierce a child? Allow them out on their own? 

When the boy heard footsteps, the creaking of the rooftop door, he turned his head and had about half a second before someone he didn't recognize was launching themselves at him with an old, rusted switch blade in his gloved hand. 

Immediately, he fell backwards onto his side and out of Keith's way, before scrambling to his feet to stutter out, 

“What the hell, man!“ Keith just looked at him, grit his teeth, and held his ground. 

“You're from the Outside.“ The boy turned red, but he didn't walk away. City people didn't like people from the Outside. 

“So what? I'm not gonna do anything, I was literally just sitting here.“ He gestured exaggeratedly to the spot where he sat before. “Look, I get it, city folk don't like us. But I didn't do anything to you, so could you please let me enjoy myself? I won't touch you.“

Keith looked down and nodded, tucking his blade back into the straps on his pants. 

“I'm sorry.“ Keith whispered once the boy had sat down. No reply, but he definitely heard him. 

“Do you have a name?“

“Do you care to hear it?“ Keith looked down again, turned around and started to walk towards the door when he heard the boy speak. 

“Why were you afraid of me? Was it my skin? My marks? My hair?“ Keith couldn't answer, he wasn't sure. He said so. 

In the city, the sky is grey, he can't remember the last time he saw the sun. Seeing someone even a little bit darker than him was weird, because he knew the sun only shone Outside. And he was always told by teachers and elders that their brown skin was muddy, gross, evil. 

He was told that inking one’s skin was cruel. Malicious, demonic. 

In the City, everyone worked. Men kept their hair short and women covered it entirely, or sometimes they would keep their hair short as well. The boy had long hair, braided back and over his shoulders. He wore colorful clothing, and his shoulders were exposed. From what he could see of his back, he had a large tattoo of what looked like a very large, angry pigeon with its beak open and its head turned. Around his wrists, he had three plain rings, above them, a ring of small squares. When Keith saw his face, he could see that he had tattoos on his neck that reached up and touched his cheeks, he could see that his earlobes were stretched around something that glistened green. 

“You can call me Lance.” Keith took full advantage of the olive branch offered to him. Why? He didn't know. He slowly walked over to where Lance was near the edge of the building and sat a good two feet away from him. 

He wanted to ask about his tattoos, the green in his ears, he wanted to touch his braids, but he had a feeling that would be rude. 

“Stop staring at me.“ Keith hadn't realized it. He looked down again, then up at the sky. The air was warm and humid, it always was. 

“I'm Keith.”  _ New Glory.  _

“Nice to meet you, Keith, I'm Lance.“

Keith looked forward, straight ahead, and for half a second, wondered if Shiro ever wondered where he went at night. He knew there was no way he didn't know he snuck out. 

 

_ Word from Outside  _

The grass was so green this time of year, the flowers so colorful, everywhere you looked you could see pinks, purples, oranges, blues, yellows, and the most vibrant  _ greens.  _ Everywhere you turned there were floral scents, fruity scents, and the scent of hot food. Pork, roasted over the fire or just coming up from a pit, still wrapped in banana leaves. Broth simmering, vegetables cooking, beef being pulled and boiled and slow-cooked and mixed with chiles and fruit juice. Oh it all smelled so good. 

He could hear the children yelling and laughing, playing. Being tricked into chores. He could see little girls who just had their hair put up or tight-braided. He could see mothers caring for babies and teenagers, both male and female, shredding and treating cactus skin for use as clothing. Elders sitting in the sun, hunched over their work, ruby, jade, sapphire, silver jewelry. His grandmother had made him his current ear plugs out of jade. 

He saw adults laying on their stomachs in the shade, either asleep or trying to get there while their tattoos healed. 

 

It took twelve days to walk to the Province Border into the city. 

He had spent those twelve days by himself thinking about what the City people were going to be like. He wondered if they dressed differently, if they spoke differently, how they lived. 

Ten days into the trip, the sky grew too grey and he lost sight of the sun, of the blue sky, the flowers and the animals. 

Eleven days in, he could no longer walk with purpose and intent, he tied his shirt over the lower half of his face in an effort to help him breathe, to cut off the smoke. It didn't work very well. 

There was no wall, no fence, nothing marking the Border but a fading paint line on the edge of the City cement. When he stepped over it, nothing happened. No City Folk dared live that close to the Outsiders. He could still see brown grass peeking and pushing through the pavement cracks, green ivy overgrown and taking over the massive buildings. No one ever talked about this Outside. 

He spent the first night in the city on top of a parking garage. On the lower levels, there were rats. Fat, grey rats with red eyes, not like the field mice caught by the children Outside. 

In the morning, he walked further into the City. 

That night, he saw his first City person. 

His name was “Keith”, and he tried to kill him. 

 

_ ‘Fore The Moon Shone  _

Not an hour into sitting quietly, looking up at the grey specks in the sky the City Folk called “stars“, Lance looked over. Rather than Keith laying back or sitting, admiring the view, he was staring at him. Well, not him. Specifically his ears. He looked back up and took a deep breath. 

“Okay since you clearly have something to say, so what is it?“ 

Keith spoke before he thought about his words. 

“What's wrong with your ears?” Lance side-eyed him and quirked his eyebrow. 

“What's wrong with yours?” Keith, once again, had no answer. Nothing was wrong with them, they were perfectly fine ears. “No, but like, what's  _ on _ them?“ Lance just sighed, but visibly relaxed. His shoulders sloped and his jaw looked less tense. 

“They're just my ear spools. My grandmother made them out of jade.” Keith had turned his body to look straight at Lance, engrossed. 

“They're cool. Also, what's jade?“ Lance turned his head, finally, to glance incredulously at him. But, at the same time, he was interested. How could someone have never seen jade? How did he not recognize jewelry? Lance turned to him, so they were sitting criss-crossed, across from each other. 

“It's like a green rock that you can kinda see through if you look really hard.” 

“Oh! I know those, they're kinda expensive in the Market District, but Shiro gets gifted them all the time.“

“Who's Shiro?” 

“He's my older brother. Have you seen the word ’Glory’ painted on every other wall? That's him.“

“Ah.“

 

With that, Lance took one last look at the faint specks of stars in the sky that kind of looked like dust off a dog and stood up. 

Keith's eyes followed him and before he could stop himself, he asked a question that most likely achieved the exact opposite of its intention. 

“Are you coming back?“ He really put foot to mouth there. 

Lance shrugged and said “probably, don't know yet.“ and was on his way. 

The subtle moonlight glinted off his earrings one last time before he was gone, and Keith was alone again. 


End file.
